On the Road

I want to tell you about Sylvia and the Hacksaw Tribe but first I need to say something about driving. In that regard, let me offer a bit of unasked for advice (which is my specialty). The next time you’re headed somewhere more than two hours away, do yourself a favor and stay off the major highways.

It takes commitment to travel America’s back roads, and it’s not something to get into lightly. If you’re game I’d suggest that it takes two to do it right, and a couple of well-defined roles doesn’t hurt. We quickly figured out that Win is an outstanding driver who loves to shift gears and to steer. Meanwhile I’m a first-rate navigator and savor hunkering down over a map with a variety of hi-liter pens within reach. Somebody’s got to keep her eyes on the road and somebody else needs to be watching for signs. You’ve got to be willing to stop on a dime, do a three-point turn in the middle of a sentence, and admit it on the rare occasion you are wrong.

If you can handle these conditions, prepare for something unique. Even if you’re cynical and disillusioned about what’s going on in our nation, I predict that you, as I have, will fall in love with America again. You’ll see for yourself that the U.S. of A. you love is still out there – you just can’t find it on the Interstate.

Win was driving on Route 10 in Arkansas and got behind a big pickup as we slowed down to drive through the town of Ola. We were deeply involved in conversation but we’re blaming it on the pickup that neither of us saw the sign, which was how we wound up on Route 7. As soon as we figured out we were headed south instead of east, we turned around, and as we pulled back into Ola we noticed something we would have missed had we not gotten sidetracked: Mima’s Motel and Café. “Do you mind if we pull in here for some coffee?” Winnie asked. I didn’t mind.

The café was shaped like a half moon with windows all around the curve and tables in every window. It was empty except for this brown-haired woman with beautiful eyes who sat in a chair with a leather vest slung over the back of it. The vest belonged to a biker, it was clear: among the patches sewn on it were GOOD GIRL GONE BAD and NEVER RIDE FASTER THAN YOUR ANGEL CAN FLY.

We sat at one of the windows and she came over to take our order. First we just asked for coffee and then she told us about the specials. We looked at the clock and realized it was lunchtime, so we ordered a meal. Then Sylvia asked where we were from and when we told her our story she got the cutest look on her face and said, “That is SO COOL.” Pretty soon we learned she had just bought a motorcycle, and that it was "that pretty one sitting right out there." She had taken her first vacation ever in her life last April, a road trip to Atlantic City. “It’s nice to go somewhere with your girlfriend and just be silly and have fun and hang out the windows, huh?”

Sylvia told us that she planned to take a trip on her bike to Arkadelphia to help celebrate her friend’s 40th birthday. Her husband (who she told us looked like Sam Elliott) (and who we really wished would walk through the door because … uh … yum … Sam Elliott) didn’t want her to ride her bike that far. But she was going to do it anyway. “I told him if you quit your crying I might let you drive it back!”

Something about her spirit just captivated us. When you’re two women traveling on the road and you wander into a café like Mima’s and meet a woman like Sylvia, a woman about your age who just bought her first motorcycle and is dancing around like a teenager from the sheer glee of it, you feel that buzz of a kindred spirit and want to make the moment last. I asked her if I could take her picture on her bike and she just about did a back flip. She put on her vest and her AC/DC baseball cap and her riding gloves and high-tailed it outside with us.

As she snapped the snaps and adjusted her cap she mentioned her riding club, the Hacksaw Tribe. “We aren’t mean enough to be a gang, and we’re not big enough to be a group, so I guess we’re a tribe.”

I was tempted to ask if they took honorary members.

And if Sylvia wanted to come along with us to Paris.